To An Author Who Loved Truth More Than Fame Poem by Bessie Rayner Parkes

NO word of pity, if the storm should beat,
Need any voice bestow which calls you dear;
You will not quail beneath the foolish heat,
Nor mourn anathemas you do not fear.
Truth is, your strong and loyal heart will say,
Of all her martyrs the sufficing friend,
And, when the lamp of love has pal'd away,
Will without fail her own great glory lend.
Oh voices rais'd in passionate protest once,
Brave spirits from whose pains our freedoms spring,
Who dar'd your birthright of delights renounce,
And, finding God, feel rich in everything,--
How long shall we your noble names revere,
And write your actions where our sons may see,
Your ancient utterance in our hearts ensphere,
And, when your steps are follow'd, turn and flee?